


Maybe, Tomorrow

by faikitty



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Homophobic Language, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9549797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faikitty/pseuds/faikitty
Summary: In which Kurogane needs to stop jumping to conclusions and Fai needs to work on his communication skills. CLAMP Secret Santa 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fai would be a much better barista than Kurogane, but Kurogane hates sweet things and would never set foot in Starbucks (or Unnamed Coffee Shop #72--please don't sue me). So Kurogane somehow wound up being the barista in this fic.
> 
> This is my first and last coffee shop AU fic, and I had to do an embarrassing amount of research for it. I don't really like coffee shop AUs so I hope this is at least... satisfactory? Title is taken from a chillstep song because I listen to very obscure music when I write.

The first time Fai walks into the shop, Kurogane doesn’t even notice him.

Not at first, at least. In the bustle of the holidays, every face is the same and every name is little more than a scrawl of black on cardboard. The shop is filled to bursting with patrons, mostly students from the nearby college seeking a coffee fix and a place to cram for upcoming exams. Kurogane is blinded by the smell of roasted coffee beans, the blurred green of his coworkers’ uniforms as they bump into him in their hurry, and above all, the constant, incessant droning of people demanding increasingly complicated coffees (coffees that, if you were to ask Kurogane, are both overpriced and overrated). So when the lanky blond with the soft voice asks for a grande salted caramel mocha cappuccino, Kurogane barely glances in his direction before punching in the order and snapping “$4.95.”

“I have a gift card, actually,” the customer says, lifting his voice just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the shop. “There should be $10 on it, but I’m not sure.”

Kurogane’s eyes flick up in irritation just long enough to catch a glimpse of lips and brows upturned in apology. The man is polite, at least, which is more than Kurogane can say for most of his customers. He takes the coupon with nothing more than a scowl and slides it through the scanner. When the balance blinks $5.05 remaining at him, he finally looks fully at the man to return the card.

That was a mistake, he realizes.

He can’t seem to look away.

The man’s eyes, brilliant blue under long blond lashes that curl up like a woman’s, capture his gaze and hold it there. His hair, light with the faintest curl, shades his face in shadowed contour. His expression changes as Kurogane stares—from apologetic, to confused, to a shy flirtatiousness as the pale skin around his eyes flushes and crinkles as he smiles. “My name is Fai,” he offers as he takes his coupon back.

_Fai_.

His fingers brush against Kurogane’s for a split second and make the barista wonder briefly, dropping his gaze just enough to stare at his lips, if the rest of him is as soft as his hands. “Kurogane,” he says after a moment, and Fai’s smile widens.

“I know.” Fai leans casually across the counter to tap the nametag where Kurogane’s name is clearly displayed. “You need my name for my drink.”

Kurogane blinks down, follows the finger back to the man it’s attached to, and nods stiffly before turning around and nearly knocking two drinks out of his coworker’s hands. His coworker swears at the near disaster, but behind him, Kurogane hears Fai laugh, and part of him stirs and makes him think he would give anything to hear that laugh again.

* * *

 

Over time, Fai’s presence becomes a regular occurrence. He comes in between 5:20 and 5:30PM, orders some variation of a holiday drink, and sits in one of the armchairs by the window. He never has a laptop or even a book with him; he just gazes out the window, watching the passersby lost in his own world, and Kurogane gazes at _him_ until the next impatient customer barks at him to pay attention. Sometimes, Fai catches him staring and smiles back, the light of the streetlamps outside framing his face like a halo. After a couple of weeks, they have still exchanged few words (even with Tomoyo’s pestering for Kurogane to write cute love notes on Fai’s drinks). But it’s okay like this. Kurogane doesn’t mind the distance, not right now at least, because Fai is still _there_.

It’s enough.

* * *

 

One night, Kurogane notices _another_ set of eyes on him.

It isn’t necessarily rare for patrons to occasionally show up at the café and attempt to flirt with the baristas. Kurogane considers himself lucky; the girls get far more harassment than he does. Even so, sometimes people are inexplicably attracted to his intimidating size and usual glare. He can usually dissuade them with a few words.

But sometimes they are insistent.

The girl who has taken an interest in him this time is one of those. Kurogane pays her no mind when she walks in with her giggling friends, doesn’t even give her a second glance when she leans farther over the counter than necessary and links her fingers, pressing her cleavage together. He ignores the purr in her voice as she asks for her complicated drink and feels nothing but annoyance when she sits at the counter, obviously intending to aggravate him as long as she can.

Which, fortunately or unfortunately, turns out to not be long.

When Kurogane looks over to where Fai usually sits after a few minutes of seeing the girl bite her thumb and make doe eyes at him, he’s surprised to see the seat is empty. Turning with a shrug, he hears Fai’s singsong voice float over the counter. “Kuro-tan. What time do you get off again?”

“10?” Kurogane replies.

“You’re still going to take me out, right?” Fai asks with a broad grin and sweep of his hands while the girl eyes him with a mix of suspicion and amusement.

Kurogane is too slow to catch onto his ploy and lifts a brow in confusion.

The girl laughs at that, looking at Kurogane as if they just shared a private joke at Fai’s expense. “You seem threatened,” she teases, and Fai gazes at her as if he’s just noticed her presence, wearing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“By you? Of course not,” he says lightly. “But I suspect you’re bothering him. Kurogane isn’t interested in you.”

“Because he’s with you?” she suggests, and Fai gives a slight nod. “Please,” the girl snorts. “That’s a terrible lie. I’ve seen you watching him with those sad little puppy dog eyes.” She leans over and presses her hands together. “We both know he’s not like you.”

Fai tilts his head. Something dangerous sparks in his eyes. “Not like me how?” he asks coolly.

The girl smiles a dagger smile and takes a single step closer, and the word is just loud enough for Kurogane to catch. “Faggot.”

Fai’s face flushes but he says nothing, only stares steadily down the bridge of his nose at her in disdain. It is when he glances expectantly toward Kurogane that he goes white and takes a step back as if he has been slapped. _He’s expecting me to defend him_ , Kurogane realizes.

He starts to open his mouth to yell at the girl, but one of his coworkers—Tomoyo, his friend—grabs his arm as his hands tense into a fist. He glances down; her lips a thin line, she shakes her head and mouths “no” at him. And she’s right. He _knows_ that. If he does anything, he’ll lose his job, and he can’t afford that. Better to let the altercation play out on its own. But—

When Fai turns to him, Kurogane feels like he’s been shot.

There’s so much _hurt_ on his face, betrayal written in his narrowed eyes and firm line of his jaw. Kurogane _wants_ to reach out, to apologize, to beat the girl who would call him that. But he _can’t_. He _can’t_.

“So that’s how it is, then,” Fai murmurs, shoulders dropping with his head and hair falling over his eyes. Kurogane hates the too bright sheen of his eyes in the café’s light. He reaches out to take Fai’s arm.

Fai shakes his head, pulls his scarf around his neck, and walks away.

“I’m sorry,” the girl says when Kurogane turns to glare at her. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I didn’t know how else to make him leave.”

Kurogane isn’t sure he’s ever hated someone more than he hates this nameless girl in this moment.

“Get out,” Kurogane snarls, keeping his voice low so no one can hear him but her. “I would _never_ be interested in _you_. I _am_ like him. So get out of my fucking sight.”

The girl’s face goes scarlet; she looks like she could burst into tears at any minute.

_Good_.

Kurogane turns his back on her. “I’ll apologize to him tomorrow,” he tells Tomoyo, who still stands watching him quietly. She puts a gentle, comforting hand on his arm and nods.

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” she says. “Just tell him you live on your own and can’t afford to be fired. You made the right choice. One more write-up and management will kick you out.”

“I know.”

“And,” Tomoyo adds with a sly smile as she releases her friend, “ask him on a date already.”

“…butt out.”

* * *

 

The next day is relatively quiet. A snowstorm hit the night before, not dropping enough snow for his manager to close the café but enough to dissuade many of their regular customers from venturing out. The sky, gray and imposing, seems to bear down on the city as it threatens to drop snow. Still, Fai will be there. He always is. And Kurogane will take his break, pay for Fai’s drink, and sit with him and explain everything, how he _needs_ this job and _couldn’t_ do anything directly last night. He’ll tell Fai how he hates himself for not acting and will _gladly_ take a swing at the girl if he ever comes across her on the street.

When his shift ends at 10, he’s forced to accept Fai isn’t coming.

No matter. The weather must have kept him home. He’ll be there tomorrow.

He isn’t.

Two more weeks pass, and Fai is absent from them. Kurogane feels heavy, lethargic, and with a start he realizes he _misses_ Fai. They have barely spoken, yet Kurogane feels as if part of him is missing. Strangers sit in Fai’s normal seat between 5:20 and 5:30, and Fai never shows up.

What if he never does again?

The realization that he knows _nothing_ about Fai hits Kurogane hard. He has no idea if Fai is a student, if he has a job someplace, what his phone number is. If Fai really is gone—Kurogane has no way to contact him.

He might never see Fai again.

Kurogane spends Christmas with Tomoyo. Neither of them have to work, and neither of them has any family to go home to. Tomoyo throws a small party, just Kurogane and a handful of her friends from school. Two of her friends, young brunettes, end up under the mistletoe, and watching their shy, awkward kiss as Tomoyo claps from her seat on the couch (“I _knew_ Syaoran and Sakura would be perfect for each other!”) makes Kurogane’s chest ache.

He drinks far more eggnog than he should that night.

Tomoyo sits on the edge of her couch, Kurogane’s head in her lap, stroking his hair and murmuring that it will be okay and that Fai will come back. Kurogane wants to say that he’s not _crying_ , he’s just _drunk_ and barely conscious and doesn’t need Tomoyo to act like his mom. But he doesn’t. He mutters a slurred “wish I could believe that” and falls asleep beneath a pile of patched quilts.

But gradually, life returns to normal. Between Christmas and New Year’s, Kurogane is kept so busy at work with families visiting each other and getting last minute holiday drinks before they go out of season that he barely has time to think about Fai.

* * *

 

So when he closes up the café at midnight on New Year’s Eve, he barely gives the stranger loitering outside the shop a second glance.

Until Fai speaks, that is.

“Hello,” Fai says softly, uncertainty clear in his voice. Kurogane freezes, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest as he turns to face him. Taking in the look on Kurogane’s face, Fai sighs and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I should go.”

“No,” Kurogane blurts, reaching out to grab Fai’s shoulder. “Don’t.” Fai’s eyes widen, shining, and Kurogane becomes aware of the lightly falling snow between them. “Although,” Kurogane adds just to end the silence, tearing his gaze away from Fai’s piercing eyes, “some people would think you were a stalker if you waited outside their job, you know.” _Am I scolding him or flirting with him_? Kurogane withdraws his hand and shoves them both in his pockets.

“Some people,” Fai agrees. He looks up at Kurogane, a cat-like smile on his face. “But you’re not one of those people, are you?”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle you,” Kurogane replies dryly. A piece of Fai’s bangs has fallen over his left eye, obscuring it; it takes no small amount of self-control for Kurogane to not brush it away.

“You don’t know me though. I could be dangerous. Looks can be deceiving, after all.”

“I know your name,” Kurogane says simply. He meets Fai’s gaze evenly.

“That’s a start. You would like to get to know me better though, wouldn’t you?” Fai asks, but it sounds like a statement.

Kurogane nods.

In an instant, there is no more space between them. They stand chest to chest, Fai stretching onto his tiptoes and arching his back and wrapping his hands into Kurogane’s scarf to tug him down until their lips meet.

They are every bit as soft as Kurogane imagined.

Fai tastes like spearmint, making Kurogane wonder if he was _planning_ on this and ate a mint beforehand. It’s a funny thought—that is immediately pushed from his head when Fai presses against him harder and makes him stumble. “Sorry,” Fai breathes hot against his skin. Kurogane takes the chance to lick past his lips into the heat of his mouth, making Fai go pliable against his touch. Kurogane turns on his heel, leans back against the brick façade behind him to steady himself, and fits his hands against the small of Fai’s back. The blond doesn’t protest; Kurogane feels him smile against his lips, biting down to pull none too gently on his lower lip. Fai gives a hum that sounds like a purr, and Kurogane holds him more tightly when Fai starts to lean back.

“Enough,” Fai laughs, pushing Kurogane’s face away gently with his hand and rolling his eyes when Kurogane turns to kiss his palm instead. “We are in public, you idiot.” Then he ducks his head to press it against the crook of Kurogane’s neck, his arms wrapping around Kurogane’s back. “At least give me a chance to catch my breath.”

“You’re the one who kissed me,” Kurogane complains, but he rests his cheek on the top of Fai’s head. “You’re not allowed to go all weak in the knees and embarrassed now.” _Even if it_ is _damnably cute_.

He feels the shake of Fai’s chuckle against him followed by a deep breath, as if Fai is trying to memorize his scent. “I’m not. I’m just… _happy_.” Fai stills and tilts his head back, his face falling slightly. “I wasn’t sure if you would even want to see me after what happened.”

“What?” Kurogane blinks and realizes he means the incident with the girl. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t think _you_ wanted to see _me_. After I didn’t defend you like I should have. You just… vanished.” He tries and fails to keep a note of bitterness from his voice. “…I was worried I was never going to see you again.”

Fai’s eyes turn sad and he reaches up to cup Kurogane’s cheek in his palm. “Nonsense,” he murmurs. “I was always going to come back.”

“Just…” Kurogane sighs. “Don’t leave without saying anything next time.”

“You missed me,” Fai giggles in surprise and relief. “You really did. How adorable, Kuro-tan.”

“It’s Kurogane,” he growls, voice gruff with embarrassment. “Where did you go then, if you weren’t avoiding me?”

“Visiting my brother for Christmas,” Fai replies as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “He lives halfway across the country and I already had my flight booked for the next morning. The fight was just… unfortunate timing.” Fai shrugs his shoulder in apology. “I would have told you before then, but—I wasn’t sure if you actually cared. You glare at me a lot. I _assumed_ it was how you flirt, but I wasn’t sure.”

Kurogane feels his face flush and suspects Fai can see it even under the fluorescent light of the street lamp. “Sorry,” he mutters, tilting his head back to watch the snow drift down. “Flirting has always seemed like a waste of time. Either you like someone or you don’t. Either they like you back or you don’t.”

“So you were just staring at me because…?” Fai drifts off suggestively and Kurogane clamps his mouth shut. Fai gives a snort of laughter in response and stands on his tiptoes to give Kurogane another soft, chaste kiss. “So… are you finally going to ask me out or do I need to leave you to think about it for another two weeks?”

“Will you go out with me?” The words are rushed and jumbled together, but Fai smiles and Kurogane no longer feels the cold.

“Yes.”


End file.
